595 Broome St
by ColieMacKenzie
Summary: The moment they met, their lives became extraordinary. They just didn't know it yet. A pre-series meeting AU. Entry for the Castle Summer Hiatus 2015 Ficathon.
1. Chapter 1

**595 BROOME ST**

* * *

 _The moment they met, their lives became extraordinary._

Pre-series meeting AU. Entry for the 2015 Summer Ficathon.

* * *

 **1**

* * *

The elevator glided to a stop, elegantly silent like the rest of the building. Kate hoisted the heavy box up against her side, the edge of the cardboard wedged over her hipbone to secure her grip around the bulky shape. The doors slid open with equal elegance and she had to suppress the urge to roll her eyes as she stepped into the hallway. Her steps muffled by the thick carpeting Kate took in the tasteful crown molding that ran the length of the ceiling, the stylish lamps and mirrors decorating the walls, the gold-tinted floor-to-ceiling windows that spilled rich, warm light into the length of the hallway, giving the impression of an expensive hotel rather than an apartment building. Not for the first time Kate wondered what exactly she was doing here; if you had asked her not too long ago, this would've been the last place she'd have expected to find herself.

The box grew uncomfortably heavy in her arms, its perceived weight amplified by the awkward position where it sat shoved against her side so Kate halted, slowly maneuvered the cardboard around to rest pressed against her chest, her arms cradled around its sides and her fingers clamped tightly to the bottom edges. Her arms barely fit around its circumference, and now she faced the distinct disadvantage that she could neither see around or over the top of the box, but at least the weight was more evenly distributed and she felt more secure to make it to her door.

Maybe she should've let the guys handle it after all. Even though she had to dip into her savings, she had splurged and hired movers to handle the furniture, the heavy and bulky items, and then some of her guys from the precinct, in exchange for several large pizzas and six packs of beer, had helped haul the rest of the boxes, the contents of her closets and drawers, her dishes, her bedding. This was the last box of a few that Kate had packed with her most treasured items, and she just couldn't bear to let them out of her sight; had insisted she could drive over and carry upstairs herself. She trusted her co-workers but she felt safer making sure nothing would be lost or break on the trip.

Kate barely heard a sound, wasn't prepared for the impact when it came. Something – someone? – smashed into her side, knocking her off balance. She staggered, tightened her grip around the box, trying valiantly to keep her balance as if the cardboard would hold her upright but instead its hulking weight pushed her backwards. Her arms flailed out instinctually to catch her fall, the box crashing to the floor just as the back of her head impacted with the carpet. It was surprisingly hard for something that'd felt so comfortable beneath her shoes, she considered incongruously to the dissonance of shattering glass and shrieking. Shrieking? Was she making that noise?

She remained stock-still, her eyes squeezed shut, the breath knocked out of her, waiting for something to make sense. She could make out a voice, rapid and breathless and high-pitched, and rushed footsteps that stomped around, its vibrations traveling from the floor to her spine.

"Daddy!" Squealing, then footsteps again. A child? More rapid-fire syllables that floated just past her ears, fuzzy at first, then getting sharper, clear, too loud for her rattled brain.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I wasn't looking, this is all my fault, Miss, are you okay? Are you alright? Please I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please-"

"Alexis." A darker voice, firm, calm, though there was a trace of, what was it? Worry? She blinked, found her eyelids were in working order, and slowly opened her eyes. Two faces hovered above her, two sets of nearly identical sharp blue eyes staring down at her.

"Are you alright?" The man asked and she focused on his face, the vague familiarity that she couldn't place. "Do you know where you are?"

Kate swallowed, wet her lips. "Yeah," she croaked, her heart still hammering, only slowly calming from the galloping shock of her crash landing. "Just... wind knocked out..." She tried to sit up, weirded out by the focused attention of these two strangers when clearly she was fine.

"Here, let me help you." The man folded his hand around her fingers, curved the other behind her neck, his touch warm and dry and solid, shocking her with how safe she felt. Maybe she was out of it a little more than she realized, she thought sardonically. For just one moment she let her weight sink into his hold, allowed the stranger to lift her as she slowly sat up.

Her eyes dropped to her packing box that lay upended on the ground, the top folds having come open, shards of colored glass spilling out across the carpet next to her knee. She remembered the jarring sounds, now, the crash and clatter and she squeezed her eyes closed for a moment, fought against the swell of tears threatening behind her eyelids.

"I'm so sorry, it was all my fault," the girl lamented once more, a rush of words that slowly filled with the distinct sound of valiantly suppressed crying. "I was running, even though dad told me not to, but I was so excited because we were going to go to the new Harry Potter movie and he promised I could have popcorn too so I didn't see you and I'm so sorry I broke your things."

"It's... it's okay," Kate stammered, taking in the earnest girl with her fiery red hair and her cheeks flushed and those watery blue eyes. It was a platitude; she didn't mean it, couldn't mean it with the sharp shards of her possessions spilled across the hallway carpet and the weight of their loss settling onto her shoulders like boulders - but what else was she supposed to say faced with the earnest innocence of this kid?

"Alexis, go get a garbage bag and the small vacuum cleaner," the man instructed, and it felt like a rescue. The girl - Alexis - hopped to her feet, rushing for the opened door that Kate presumed must be their home, clearly eager to do anything to fix what she had caused. Not that there was much fixing.

The man's eyes turned back to her, his gaze focused intently on hers, deep blue eyes that seemed to look right into her, see everything she was always so carefully hiding, and to her own dismay, she felt her cheeks flush with warmth. His palm had skated from her neck to rest on her shoulder, his other hand still folded around hers and his thumb painting circles over her skin in a gesture that seemed completely subconscious and too familiar, intimate. Her fingers tingled. She tugged her hand out from under his, pushed herself up off the carpeted floor to get back on her feet, needing to reclaim her composure. He hovered close by her but let her stand up on her own, and it seemed entirely incongruous that she felt like she was missing the warmth of his touch.

His hand shot out as soon as she was solidly on her feet, smile widening eagerly while his eyes seemed to sparkle with what seemed a boyish combination of joyful and mischievous, and then he spoke and completely upended her every thought.

"I'm Richard Castle."

* * *

Richard Castle could easily admit that he was entirely baffled by the mysterious, beautiful stranger in his hallway. Her eyes flicked down to his outstretched hand, then back up to his eyes, a glint of what he would've bet good money on was recognition flashing in her eyes before she seemed to catch herself, wet her lips (oh, she had to stop doing that!) as she shook his hand, her grip strong even though the gesture almost seemed clumsy. "Beckett," she said, then, "Kate," still shaking his hand. "Detective."

"You're a detective?" His thoughts practically skittered to a screeching halt as he eyed the woman. That was so hot. He couldn't help but stare at her as she tugged her hand back to her side, an adorable flush skating across her cheeks but her eyes shone with strength, with the defiance of someone who'd likely had her share of disbelief, dirty innuendo or inappropriate commentary thrown her way.

"That is so cool!"

"Daddy I got everything-" His daughter chose this moment to interrupt, bounding back into the hallway, dragging a handheld vacuum in one hand, dustpan and broom and a roll of plastic garbage bags in the other. Kate's eyes tore from his, focused on his child instead who'd sidled up next to him.

"This is my daughter, Alexis," he introduced, ruffled his fingers through her silky, red hair that made his child scrunch her nose at him and wiggle away.

"It's nice to meet you," Beckett-Kate-Detective said, eyes skimming from Alexis back to him, looking a little insecure despite the phrase she spoke. "Both."

Alexis sank to her haunches, her little hands scooping at the jagged, thick glass pieces that had spilled from the cardboard box onto the ground, eyed the destruction her eagerness had caused with a sorrowful face.

"Careful; don't hurt yourself." Kate sank to her knees beside his daughter. "How about you hand me that dustpan, and hold open a garbage bag?"

Alexis nodded earnestly, did as she was asked while Kate started sweeping the larger shards into a pile. She did so slowly, almost reverently, and Rick watched her closely, noted the downcast eyes, the way her teeth snagged at her lower lip, the way sorrow seemed to have walled her in. The broken items had been valuable to her, had been guarded and loved. He watched this woman, this stranger clean up her treasures and he wanted nothing more than to fix it for her, even though it wasn't possible. It startled him, this valiant need, this intrigue, the surge of unbridled affection that rattled through him in equal measure.

Huh. That was new.

"Are you our new neighbor?" Alexis asked, startling Rick out of his reverie as he realized he'd been standing there like an imbecile. He hurried to join the two of them, carefully righted the upended, heavy box, winced at the cacophonous clatter of pieces that suggested more items had broken within the shell of the cardboard. Kate cast her eyes to his for a quick, wary glance at the unmistakable sound, then blinked, forced her attention back on his child.

"Yes," she nodded. "I live in 3 now."

"In Mrs. Houghton's place?" Her eyes met his.

"Uhm yeah, she... That was my grandmother." There was a story there, so much hidden in the depths of this woman's eyes.

"Your grandma? She was nice. She gave me sweets sometimes. But we've never seen you before. Didn't you go visit? My grandma visits aaaall the time," Alexis chattered, rolled her eyes in a display of typical ten-year-old wisdom and completely oblivious to the tension rattling the woman's lithe frame.

"Alexis." Rick broke his child's swell of words, short and firm and Alexis closed her mouth, her eyes flicking to him warily.

"I should get going." Kate rose to her feet, carefully not meeting his gaze as she reached for the box.

"Please, let me." Rick quickly hoisted the cardboard into his arms to cut off any potential refusal. "It's the least I can do."

She stared at him, fingers kneaded together as she seemed to mull over his proposal, but at last she nodded. "Okay." She fumbled a key from within the pocket of her jeans, led the way toward her door that was further down the hallway across from his.

"You can leave it here." Kate pointed to the floor by the doorframe, so he set down the box, careful not to jostle the contents once more. He would've preferred carrying it inside for her, wouldn't have minded a glance at her place either, but he understood a clear instruction when it was given, and she didn't know him. Not to mention she was a cop.

"You guys are gonna miss your movie," she pointed out when he was still just standing there, feeling a little speechless, a little hopeless. It's been a long time since any woman had left him so tongue-tied. He looked for his daughter who was standing in the middle of the hallway, still holding the garbage bag with the glass shards, patiently waiting for him with those serious, guilt-filled eyes. He nodded, turned back for Kate.

"It was really nice to meet you," he said, smiling at her while he held out his hand once more. After an interminably long moment she slid her slim hand into his, her touch warm and tender and leaving him just a little yearning, and then he walked away.


	2. Chapter 2

**595 BROOME ST**

 _The moment they met, their lives became extraordinary. They just didn't know it yet._

* * *

 **2**

* * *

With a deep exhale, Kate sank into her couch and drew her legs up, letting the soft cushions welcome her dragging limbs, her sore, aching back, her heavy head. Her eyes wandered across her new home, over the boxes still scattered everywhere and the progress she'd already made unpacking parts of her life. Her kitchen was still a mess, drowning in a sea of cardboard, and she hadn't even ventured into her bedroom yet, but her bookshelves were filled, brimming with her treasures nestled together seemingly haphazardly, tall and skinny spines next to short and fat ones just the way she liked it. Knickknacks and decor, paintings and pillows unpacked and arranged, her living room the first part of this loft that started looking more personal, started feeling like her.

Her gaze landed on the one box that still sat by the doorframe just inside her entryway, untouched since she'd dragged it across the threshold. Kate chose to ignore it some more, couldn't find the strength in her to dig through its contents, untangle what of her beloved items had broken, what may still be intact. The thought brought her back to the accident and the girl with the blue, earnest eyes, and her father, Richard Castle. Richard freaking Castle! She still couldn't quite grasp it. Her favorite author, and she was going to live just across from him. It was... surreal.

She'd noticed the spark of interest and intrigue in his dark, blue eyes; her insides still flared with squirming butterflies at the memory of his gaze on her, his kind smile, his large hand folded around hers.

He was different in person than she would've expected, not at all like the lecherous playboy portrayed on page six and in paparazzi photographs. Then again, she hadn't been aware he had a daughter; he must be going through great lengths to keep his child out of the public eye.

How had she never known he was living across from her grandmother's? She scoffed. Of course she hadn't known; when would they have talked about it, or anything for that matter? They hadn't really interacted for years, and then Vivienne had died, taking every chance of reconciliation with her. Kate still hadn't figured out how she felt about that when the inheritance had come through.

She'd never wanted anything, _anything_ \- She had sworn to herself, had held steadfastly (stubbornly, her betraying mind provided) onto that decision for years and yet, here she was. Her grandmother had left the loft to her in her will; had never even told her. All that anger had just welled back up, the arguments, the sense of betrayal, of loss, and Kate hadn't wanted it, thought of refusing the inheritance altogether and all it stood for.

And then everything seemed to happen at once - the promotion and change in her job, the lease on her old place running out, and Kate found herself needing a new place, preferably something close enough to the precinct so she could be available on short notice, but there was nothing, at least nothing she could afford. 'Maybe it's her way of making up for it?', her dad had suggested, and 'it'll be safe, Katie. I won't have to worry about you,' playing the guilt card on her and so, out of options and backed into a corner, she'd given in. Had accepted it. A gift horse and all that, she'd talked herself into her choice, and that was how she found herself transplanted from a tiny hole of an apartment that always smelled like chicken wings to a gorgeous loft with high ceilings and open spaces and windows that overlooked a quiet interior courtyard and the jagged, sky-scrapered heart of Manhattan in the distance. And a door man.

And Richard Castle as her neighbor.

The knock at her door startled her from her musings, and she rose to sit up, her toes curling against the chilled hardwood. Her lower back screamed at her as she stood, and she dug her thumbs right and left of her spine, massaging the tight knots while she walked. A second knock reverberated through the thick wood, and Kate rose to her tiptoes to peek through the peephole, and found herself face-to-face with those wide, earnest blue eyes again.

She opened the door. "Alexis."

"Hi Kate," the girl held up a plate in front of her. A large cupcake sat in its center, slathered with pink frosting that was piped on a little lopsidedly, and scattered with chocolate sprinkles. "I'm really, really sorry that I broke your things and so I made you a cupcake and I really hope you can forgive me." The words rushed from the girl's mouth, her cheeks flushed, and Kate had to bite at the grin that curled her lips.

"Apology accepted," she formally answered to match the earnest words, smiling at the girl as she reached for the plate to inspect the cupcake. "You made this yourself?"

Alexis nodded. "It's chocolate. And I even made the frosting," she added, sounding proud.

"And-" Suddenly Richard Castle popped out from behind the doorframe, grinning at her over his daughter's head. "We brought pizza!" He lifted a huge pizza box, and the scent of yeasty dough, greasy cheese and fragrant tomato sauce made her mouth water. She realized she hadn't eaten since breakfast; her stomach growled accordingly, and the man wiggled his eyebrows at her, looking smug at his choice.

"We figured you wouldn't have a functioning kitchen yet-" He leaned across Alexis, peeked around her doorframe into her apartment, then turned back to her with a grin. "Looks like we were right!" He announced gleefully, his face suddenly close, very close. She rolled her eyes at him.

Kate looked at him, then at the girl, then back at him; two figures framing her doorway with hopeful, innocent eyes shining at her and it popped out of her mouth before she'd thought it through.

"Would you like to come in?"

* * *

"Nice place." Rick let his eyes wander around as he stepped inside Kate's space while Alexis tripped ahead of him, heading straight for the couch. He noticed similarities to his own loft though it was significantly smaller, Kate's place being a one-bedroom without the upstairs area, but he loved the open space and the high, vaulted ceilings, the large floor-to-ceiling windows that framed the living room, and the glimpse of the balcony he saw just beyond.

Kate stopped on her way to the kitchen counter, looked a little thrown for reasons he couldn't quite fathom. "Um, thanks." She set the plate with the cupcake in the refrigerator. "My last place was a lot smaller so I don't have much furniture." She sank to her haunches, started rummaging through one of the boxes residing on her kitchen floor.

"Oh," he suddenly remembered, held up the plastic bag dangling from his hand. "We brought some paper plates and napkins." Her eyes rose to his and only then did it occur to him how presumptuous he'd been.

He didn't actually know this woman.

But oh, how he wanted to.

Her gaze rose to his, a mischievous spark in her eyes that was completely unexpected and yet fit so perfectly with the intriguing, multilayered person he'd glimpsed, with the fire he felt was running through her veins, just beneath her skin, making her hot and fiery and almost untouchable.

"Have you now?" She hummed, giving it right back, calling him out on it as she stared him down and, oh wow- Heat speared through him, low and deep, making his heart pound with excitement. All he could do was nod, a little flabbergasted, a lot hot, before he managed to find the suave part of him in which he usually prided himself.

"I always come prepared," he replied, kept his voice low, just for her ears. A pink blush climbed into her cheeks, slight, barely noticeable - but he noticed. She quirked one eyebrow at him, her teeth skating across the pink flesh of her bottom lip in a move so unconsciously sensual that a burst of need uncoiled in his midsection, keeping him sealed to the floor, a statue seared in place by the fire in her eyes.

"I just bet you do." She held his stare, electricity flaring between them like a live wire, raw and sparking and explosive. Lightning in a bottle. It'd been a long time since a woman, any woman had intrigued him like this just with her mere presence, her mystery, that hidden depth. And her incredible hotness.

"Can we eat now?" Alexis called from the living room, and they both startled, her eyes tearing away from his, her head swiveling toward his daughter but not before he noticed the flustered expression on Kate's face, the persistent pink of her cheeks and the way she fiddled with her fingers, wiped her palms against her jeans.

"Sure. Yes." Kate scooted past him, careful not to brush against him and he followed, his heart still leaping in his throat from the intensity of her eyes. He sank to the floor by the coffee table, sitting cross-legged across from Kate who'd sat down next to Alexis on the couch. He opened the pizza box, pushed it toward Kate first, watched as she tugged a slice out of the pie by its crust. A long string of melted cheese still connected the tip of her piece to the rest of the pie until she plucked it with her index finger, popped said fingertip between her lips and sucked the cheese off her skin.

She was going to be the death of him.

"How did you like the movie?" She focused on his daughter after her first bite, and they spent the next several minutes discussing the merits and downfalls of "Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban", the differences of book versus movie, and even though he occasionally intersected, he found himself mostly listening, admiring the melodious lilt of Kate's voice as she analyzed the symbolism Rowling used in her book and its visual representation in the movie, the conviction and serious consideration in her arguments despite talking to his ten-year old. People tended to dismiss his child, didn't put merit to what she had to say even though Alexis was a smart, well-spoken individual, yet this woman whom they've met only today took the time to listen to her speak, to consider her viewpoints, and he was enamored.

* * *

"So, you really are a Detective?" He asked a while later into a lull of silence, eyeing her across the table. Kate wiped the grease from the corners of her mouth with a napkin, and the extra attention it drew to her lips didn't help him keep his thoughts at all.

"Yes. Youngest woman in the NYPD to ever make detective," she added with pride, almost challenging him with that quirk of her eyebrow. He didn't doubt it. There was fire in her, a fierce conviction and strength that left no doubt she wouldn't be able to reach any goal to which she'd set her mind. What had him more intrigued was the 'why'... why this goal, why the police? She wasn't bridge-and-tunnel, and smart, good-looking women like her usually became lawyers, not cops.

"You work for the police?" Alexis interjected, wide-eyed and astonished. "What kind of crimes?" That was his kid, he thought proudly. She loved detective fiction, anything with a mystery to solve - like father, like daughter.

Kate exchanged a glimpse with him and he nodded, a silent permission that she could speak freely with his daughter. "I work in homicide."

A homicide detective. Wow. Just when he thought she couldn't get any hotter. He noticed her stare, his child badly hiding her giggles behind her hands. Shit, what did he- "What did I say?"

"You said, 'wow'," Alexis grinned cheekily, reminding him all over again how fast his little girl was growing up. He was just relieved the rest of his thought hadn't popped out of his mouth as well.

"It's my professional duty to be intrigued," he puffed out his chest for effect, making his child laugh and Kate roll her eyes, which he counted as a double success. "What kind of a mystery writer would I be if I weren't?"

"Took you long enough to thread that into the conversation," Kate needled, eyeing him with that flare of challenge in her gaze.

"I knew that you knew," he challenged right back, leaning closer. "In fact, I think you're a fan..."

"I may have read one or two of your works."

"Which ones?" Alexis piped in once more, startling him, and he realized he was flirting with Kate right in front of his daughter. He might have the reputation of a playboy, an impression severely hemmed up for marketing reasons after his divorce several years ago, but he always kept his affairs neatly separated from Alexis' life.

"Um... 'Flowers for Your Grave'," Kate answered. "I like that one."

"Oh yeah. That's a good one."

Kate's eyes startled back to his, an eyebrow raised half-smirking, half-incredulous. "She reads your books?"

"Only specially edited versions."

"Yeah daddy takes out the really brutal parts and all the sex parts," Alexis added matter-of-factly between chewing her pizza, and he groaned, wanted to sink into the ground right then and there. But Kate laughed, a pleased and surprised thing that curled at her lips, half-hidden behind her fingertips, a fresh sound that curled and coiled inside him, made him itch to discover more of her, all of her, wanting to tickle that sound out of her every chance he got.

Silence fell over them then, not quite awkward, broken only by the smacking sound of Alexis sucking her fingertips in her mouth one by one to lick off the pizza grease.

"Use your napkin, pumpkin." He watched Kate out of the corner of his eye, her gaze wandering across her new home, her fingers folding, unfolding, folding again. The empty pizza box made him realize that their visit with Kate was rapidly coming to an end. He wished it didn't have to but he'd barged in on her in the first place; he didn't want to overstay his welcome, too.

He'd rather come back. Oh yeah, he definitely wanted to come back.

"Can we help you with anything, Kate, before we leave? Unpacking, any heavy lifting?" Her gaze flew back to him so he wiggled his eyebrows at her, flexed his biceps exaggeratedly. Alexis giggled, and a slow, almost shy smile played at the corners of Kate's lips that he couldn't help but stare at. It left him tongue-tied, a little breathless.

"Ah no, that's okay." She declined his help which he had expected. Despite her invitation into her apartment, despite the playful flirtation, she hadn't given away much of herself. She seemed like a very private person, seemed to protect herself fiercely, had walled herself off.

He wanted to scratch and claw at that wall, disassemble it brick by brick until she was laid bare, wanted to discover and reveal, wanted to know everything. She was fascinating. Remarkable. And he didn't remember when he'd last wanted something this fiercely. Someone.

She blushed, started throwing the used, balled up napkins into the empty pizza box and he realized he'd been staring at her for far longer than was socially acceptable. Rick quickly rose to his feet, his knees cracking in protest.

"Come on, Alexis, time to go," he directed, herding his daughter toward the door and trailing behind her.

"Thank you for the pizza," Kate said once they'd stepped out into the hallway, and he turned for her, found her framed by the doorway, haloed by the warm spill of light from her apartment.

"You're welcome."

"And the cupcake." Her smile widened for his daughter, and Rick wanted to hug her for the kindness of it, for makingAlexis feel better. His child had a tendency to carry the weight of the world on her shoulders, had been harboring the guilt and remorse for smashing into Kate and causing her such sadness throughout their afternoon at the movies and the baking adventure that left his kitchen a mess of sticky dishes and pink icing smeared against the white of the kitchen cabinets.

"I hope it'll taste good."

"I'm sure it will," Kate grinned at her, then let her eyes slide back up to him, her smile softened yet no less able to punch him straight in the gut with its intensity. "Night."

"See you soon."

Her shoulder leaned against the edge of the open door, her smile turned wistful, almost sad in a way he couldn't make sense of. "You can't just say 'night'?"

"I'm a writer. Night is boring. 'See you soon' is more hopeful."

"Yeah well, I'm a cop. Night."

* * *

 _a/n: Thank you for the incredibly warm welcome you've given this story; I so appreciate your kind words. For the time being my planned schedule is to update every Monday._

 _Twitter and Tumblr: nic6879_


	3. Chapter 3

**595 BROOME ST**

 _The moment they met, their lives became extraordinary. They just didn't know it yet._

* * *

 **3**

* * *

Feet dragging across the cushioned carpet, Kate crossed the length of the hallway that seemed to get longer with every step. This week had been a bear, every day seeming to run later than the last, and the exhaustion weighed heavy on her shoulders, her head pounding with a persistent headache.

A shriek made her pause; she stopped to listen, recognized the now-familiar voice that seeped into the hallway, muffled by the doorway of apartment number one. The high-pitched, giddy squeal drew an unexpected smile onto her lips as she remembered the solemn red-haired little girl she had met days ago whose voice now reverberated with such joy. The giggling was followed by a deeper voice booming with laughter, the faint beats of footsteps rushing by, and the playful image sent a bout of wistfulness through Kate that she couldn't make sense of. She dragged herself forward, dug her keys from her bag once she'd reached her own door. Kicking it closed behind her she dropped her purse right by the doorway, set the filebox she'd been carrying on the table by the entryway.

Kate toed off her shoes and headed straight for the bathroom, stopping in her bedroom only to shed her coat, letting it drop to the floor, her nose wrinkling as she regarded the crumpled heap; it definitely needed dry-cleaning, if it could be saved at all. Once in her bathroom she turned on the shower, and hot water immediately rushed from the shower-head - yet another one of the little amenities of this upscale place that she begrudgingly had to admit were amazing: instant hot water and pounding water pressure. She quickly undressed and stepped under the spray, dropping her head to let it beat onto her stiff neck and the sore muscles of her shoulders and her back, wash the sticky sweat from her skin, the dirt that seemed to have lodged in every crevice.

Their team was working three homicides simultaneously, and she'd been spending her days running down leads, canvassing neighborhoods, asking the same questions over and over; running traffic footage, evaluating bank statements, digging through a seemingly never-ending pile of grunt work. As much progress as she'd made in her previous department, as many successes as she'd been able to count as her own, she was back at the bottom of the rungs now, trying to gain the trust of her new team, working her way up the ladder. She didn't mind, was willing to pay her dues, and every time she discovered even the smallest fact that mattered, that made it onto one of their murder boards, a little thrill ran through her, a spark of excitement that fortified her for the next bout of busywork coming her way. Today she'd spent most of her afternoon climbing around in dumpsters, digging through trash to find a missing wallet. The air was stifling, thick with humidity and heavy summer heat seemingly much hotter than the June weather was expected to be at this time of the year and by the time she was done her nose and cheekbones felt burned from the sun, her lips were chapped, her feet and lower back aching with every step.

Kate held her face under the hot spray, let the water stream down her cheeks, her jaw, over her collarbones, and the steam accumulating in the large shower stall seeped into her sinuses and lungs, invigorating her senses. Squeezing a generous amount of shampoo into her palm, she started scrubbing her hair, trying to dislodge the remaining stink of garbage and rotten food that had seemed to have crawled into every pore of her skin.

For a few minutes she simply stood under the pounding spray with the water hammering onto her shoulders, trying hard to enjoy the revitalizing warmth but her thoughts wouldn't quiet, her fingertips almost twitching with it as her mind was racing through an endless to-do list- She was wasting time. Shutting off the water Kate stepped out of the stall, perfunctory in performing the rest of the necessary routine - scrubbed a bath towel along her limbs and torso, then through her hair, ran a brush through the tangled strands and tugged them up in a careless, wet bun. She grabbed the first outfit she found - a pair of shorts and an oversized NYPD sweatshirt that she slid on while making her way back to her living room. Lifting the file box into her arms, she stood for several moments, surveying the space, not sure how best to proceed.

Every day of the past week, after she'd been dismissed for the night from their cases, she'd snuck away to the evidence room to pull a box, taking the files to an unoccupied desk late and working her way through page after page of files for hours after the bull pen had turned quiet with only the downsized night crew still milling around; found herself trudging home close to midnight each night only to be back by 6 a.m. the next morning. The dark rings under her eyes were getting harder to mask with make-up but it didn't matter; she'd finally made it where she needed to be and it was time to focus.

Only tonight she'd been caught; Montgomery's face stern as he had ordered her home, his tone implying he knew exactly what she was up to. They both remembered the time he had caught her in the archives when she was still an officer, knew what she was up to in her spare time, so she had nodded, started packing her stuff, and headed out - but not before grabbing one of the boxes. If she couldn't work at the precinct, she just had to find a different space, a safe space.

Her eyes traveled across the vastness of her new place, her home now, the boxes upon boxes still sitting in in various corners and spaces that she still hadn't had time to unpack since she went back to work, the continued disarray in the kitchen. Through the doorway to her bedroom her gaze landed on the wide window, the strips of hazy streetlight peeking through the slats of the plantation shutters.

Perfect. She preferred sleeping in the dark anyway.

Once in her bedroom she sat the box of files onto the floor, then opened the shutters. She headed back out, rummaging through several boxes until she found the one that held the contents of her desk, digging through it until she could pull out the stack of index cards, a couple of sharpies and a roll of scotch tape.

Back in her bedroom she sat down on the floor next to the files, placed the office supplies to her other side. She pulled a yellow index card from the stack, opened the sharpie. She didn't need to open a file for the first one, the information burned forever into her brain.

'Johanna Beckett', she typed out in sharp-red, orderly block letters, then picked a black pen, wrote underneath, 'murdered January 9, 1999.'

* * *

It'd been easily three minutes since he'd been standing in front of her door and he still hadn't knocked. His stomach fluttered, his palms getting a little sweaty - he was nervous, he could admit to himself, and he rarely ever was nervous when it came to talking to women. He'd be the first to admit he'd been blessed with a charm to which the female population seemed to respond well, so talking usually came easy for him. Yet with this particular female, all his moves went right out the window.

Apparently this was harder without Alexis acting as a buffer between him and the mystery of Kate Beckett, without his daughter providing him with a reason to show up uninvited at her door. Well, he did have a reason, he supposed it might even be a good one, but he couldn't tell how she'd react, wasn't at all sure whether Kate would appreciate his particular effort.

It was just... There'd been a sadness to her that had gutted him, that underlying sense of hopelessness that he hadn't been able to understand, that had lingered, had followed him around all week. There was only the persistent urge to make it better; he wanted to help, or at least try - something, _anything_.

But Detective Beckett was no damsel in distress; not only for the obvious reason that she was a police detective. He sensed that she went through great pains to stand on her own, had fortified herself against the world, and it left him wondering why, his inquisitive mind wanting to know more. He wanted her story. He instinctively knew that Kate Beckett's story would be as fascinating and intriguing as the woman herself.

He wiped his hand down the length of his pants, the handles of the gift bag cutting into his other palm where his grip was tight around the roped cords. The chafing reminded him why he was still pacing in front of her door like a creepy stalker, so at last he rose his fist to the door, and rapped his knuckles against the wood.

He waited through the unnerving silence from the other side of the door with his heart thumping all the way up in his throat; he was fairly certain she was home, had paid attention tonight to the sounds in the hallway to be aware when to come over, so he gave her time, knocked again in case she hadn't heard it.

At last footsteps were approaching on the other side, followed by a short moment of silence where he presumed she was peeking through the peephole, and then the door glided open at last.

"You don't easily give up, do you?" There was something melancholy, almost resigned in her voice despite the small smile that played on her lips, and he wasn't quite sure what she meant. She looked tired. Her face was pale, the thin skin under her eyes hollowed out and tinged blue and- had she been crying? Her eyes were bloodshot, looking watery even in the dim lighting of the hallway.

"Are you alright?" It wasn't what he'd meant to say, how he'd wanted to start the conversation, but he couldn't help it, worry creeping through him for this woman he barely knew yet who touched his heart so much that he hadn't been able to stop thinking about her for days.

"Yeah. I'm fine." It was a hollow answer; he was certain she wasn't fine when tension seemed to straighten her spine and stiffen her shoulders, but he didn't actually know her, had no way to call her out on it or dig for the truth. She had every right to protect herself, so he let it go.

"I brought you something." He held up his offering, the large gift bag dangling from his closed fist. "A gift. I mean, to make up for- I don't know if that's okay and maybe you won't like it and I know it can't make up for- But I want you to have it."

"Stop. Castle, stop." She broke through his ridiculous rambling, an amused smile playing on her lips that helped soothe his nerves just a bit. He really wasn't sure whether he'd made the right choice, but he'd just had to try, couldn't forget the grief in her eyes. She shoved the Sharpie that she'd been clutching into the front pocket of her sweater, then took the bag from him. Holding it by the handle with her left, she slid the other hand into the abundance of tissue paper he'd stuffed inside. "Thank you. You didn't have to-"

"Wait!" He interrupted, and her eyes flew back up to his, eyebrows raised in question.

"It's just... I know there's no way to replace any of the things my daughter broke, to make up for the loss..." Kate's smile faltered at his words, her expression growing serious, almost fearful, so he rushed on with his explanation. "But I looked around and found this and I thought you should have it, and I know it's not the same, won't ever be the same; it can't replace what you lost but maybe, at least you can see it, have the memory of it?"

Her slim fingers slid deeper into the bag, careful now, almost reverent, and he closely watched her face, his heart harsh against his ribcage with every change in her expression as her fingers found the heavy item and slowly pulled it from the sea of tissue paper.

"Castle!" She gasped, staring silently for a few interminably long moments, and then there really were tears running down her face, thin rivulets that quietly skated down her cheeks. She didn't wipe them away, just let them skim down her skin and run into the corner of her mouth. He had to fight the urge to glide his thumb along her cheekbone, catch the moisture with his fingertip.

The large vase she'd unearthed from the gift bag sparkled in the low lighting of the hallway, shot through with beams of light that pierced through the thick, red crystal, fracturing into hundreds of hexagons that gleamed and shone against the walls of the hallway.

"How did you even find this?" Her voice was watery, almost toneless.

"We had the pieces from cleaning up after the spill in the hallway. I took a closer look, did a bit of research to try to figure out which model it might've been..." The explanation was admittedly a gross understatement, when in fact he had laid out the red shards on his kitchen table like a puzzle, gluing together several pieces to figure out its shape and make, then spent three quarters of one night scouring the internet to find an exact match, never more thankful for his unerring ability to procrastinate when he was supposed to write and subsequently having developed stellar research skills.

"But this one hasn't been available for years!"

He shrugged. "I know a guy."

Kate cradled the vase in her arm, her fingers running along the fractured cut of the crystal almost in disbelief, outlining its form and unable to take her eyes of it. "Thank you."

"I'm sorry, I know it's not the same-"

"No, no, it's-" She sighed, raised her head to look at him. "Thank you, Castle."

He was looking at her, couldn't quite make himself detach from this moment, their eyes holding, her expression still melancholy but a little less sad and he wanted to rejoice in what seemed like a victory, mentally fist-pumping that he'd gifted her a modicum of contentment.

"It was my mother's," she suddenly broke through the silence. "The vase." His mind lurched to a halt at the past tense of the statement. "She had a small collection. This one had been a gift when I was born." He blinked, his throat knotted with emotion but she smiled, her eyes watery, her voice contemplative but there was joy in the memory too, he could hear it echo in her voice, and his stomach clamped forcefully at the realization that he'd been able to return it to her, not the real thing but at least- something.

"Why do you call me that?" The thought flew out of his mouth at about the same moment that it had ran through his brain.

"Call you what?"

"Just by my last name - Castle?"

"Oh." She laughed softly, just a bit shy. "Just habit, I guess. From the precinct."

He grinned wider, inordinately pleased with that small fact. "One day I'm gonna wanna know all about that, Detective Beckett." He emphasized her profession with sharpened consonants, not one to hide his curiosity, because there was nothing that wasn't fascinating about this young, beautiful, wounded homicide detective.

"I'll consider myself warned, then," she quipped, a teasing sexy thing that made his stomach flip. He looked at her, couldn't quite tear his eyes away from her softened features, her light smile, so much less tense than when he'd knocked on her door mere minutes ago.

"I should go. Alexis-" He pointed his thumb over his shoulder toward his own apartment where his daughter was on her own, waiting for him to return. "If I'm not back soon I'll have another kitchen calamity on my hands."

She chuckled, nodded in understanding, and it was one of the most adorable sounds he'd ever heard, her mirth. "Yeah. Seems like a good idea."

Reluctantly he detached himself from her smile, lifting his hand in an awkward wave as he took a couple of steps backwards before he slowly turned into the hallway.

"Castle."

He halted, looked back over his shoulder.

"Thank you."

He nodded. "Maybe you could come over for dinner some time." He smiled at her, and her lips stretched wider, eyelids lowering in that shy way of hers.

"Maybe I could. G'Night."

"See you soon, Kate."

She rolled her eyes at him, and then she closed the door.

He couldn't help the extra spring in his steps as he walked the few steps back to his own apartment because he thought he might have just asked her for a date, sort of, and it seemed like she may have even said yes.

* * *

 _a/n: Thank you all so much for the continued support; it's a joy to know you are enjoying this story and your kind words are like rays of sunshine! :)_

 _PSA - There is a slight chance that I won't be able to post a chapter next Monday; I will be on vacation and I am not sure I will have Wi-Fi available. If that's the case, we will resume the week after. Thanks for your understanding._

 _Twitter and Tumblr: nic6879_


	4. Chapter 4

**595 BROOME ST**

 _The moment they met, their lives became extraordinary. They just didn't know it yet._

* * *

 **4**

* * *

Kate knocked before she could change her mind; careful at first, then louder a second time.

She was still buzzing, the day's exhilaration humming like electricity through her blood, sparking in her fingertips. A restlessness gnawing in the pit of her stomach she couldn't seem to escape. She rolled up on her toes, kneaded her fingers together. Listening for the telltale sounds of steps she released a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. No sounds were escaping through the thick red door, the silence around her all-encompassing, oppressive. Doubts crept into her mind. Would Alexis already be asleep; would he be reading her a bedtime story? She gnawed on her bottom lip. It was late, borderline inappropriate for a neighborly visit. This was a terrible idea, wasn't it? She should not be here, she shouldn't-

Before her nerves got the better of her the door swung open and there he was, his wide shoulders and strong arms filling the frame of his doorway. Her heart kicked hard against her ribcage. His eyes met hers, the surprised expression on his face instantly melting into a pleased, eager smile and the thrill that ran through her felt entirely unexpected. Warmth climbed across her collarbones, into her cheeks.

"Kate, hi! What a surprise. I haven't seen you in a few days. It's late. Are you alright? Everything okay?"

She had to bite back the grin that wanted to escape at the stream of words tumbling from his mouth; he seemed to have a tendency to ramble, or maybe she made him nervous. The thought startled her, a heated spark blooming to life in her belly.

"Yeah." She nodded. "I'm good." He kept his gaze focused on her, his eyes shockingly blue in the shadowed lighting; intense, asking wordless questions and her stomach fluttered, sent her heart skittering.

"Uhm. May I come in?"

"Oh yes, ugh, manners." He rolled his eyes at himself, smacked his forehead. "Of course. Come on in." He curved his palm to the ball of her shoulder, guiding her through the doorway. The warmth of his hand seeped through her shirt, into her skin, and sudden images flashed through her mind, unbidden, vivid to all her senses, large hands traversing naked skin, warm fingers, questing, teasing; rippling muscles beneath the pursuit of determined fingertips, and frissons traveled down her spine.

"Can I offer you something? It's kinda late for that dinner I'd promised, though I do have leftovers. Or would you rather have a drink?"

"A drink would be great, thank you."

The adrenaline rush lingered, she was still pulsating with energy, her thoughts spinning, rattling through her. She'd been wanting to go out, have a drink or three, celebrate, but the few people she felt comfortable asking already had plans or were still on shift and there hadn't been anyone else.

No one who'd understand this particular thrill, anyway. Not since Royce- But she didn't want to think about Royce, forced the thought of him from her mind.

And then she'd passed his apartment in the hallway and she'd thought of Castle, recalled the way he'd been intrigued by her work, eager for every morsel of detail she was willing to give, the way he'd been interested in her, if she was being honest - she wasn't blind - so she'd dropped her bag off in her apartment, hadn't even changed out of her work clothes, hadn't waited for doubts to manifest that'd keep her holed up alone at home instead.

She couldn't imagine he'd turn her away.

And tonight, she hadn't wanted to drink alone.

He headed for the kitchen and she followed, letting her eyes travel across the wide space of his loft, admiring the unique layout, the tray ceiling in his living room and the floor-to-ceiling window, the wide-open staircase and understated decor in warm, muted colors. "Your place is amazing."

"Thank you. I was able to buy both apartments on this side of the hallway," he explained, heading for the dining room area where he opened a cabinet door and peered inside. "Had them remodeled into one." He pulled a bottle from what must be his liquor cabinet, inspected the amber liquid swirling inside against the light for a second before he rose, heading back in her direction.

"My mother and I mostly lived in very cramped apartments when I was a kid, so the moment I was able to have it, I wanted lots of breathing room."

"It's a lot of space for just two people." She knew she was fishing; so did he, if the eyebrow he raised at her was any indication. Back in the kitchen he placed the bottle in front of her on the island, then pulled a couple of tumblers from a shelf.

"On the rocks?" He held up a glass. She shook her head.

"Neat, please."

"Nice! Girl after my own heart." He placed the glasses next to the bottle, leaned over the island across from her. She felt that flush skate into her cheeks once more, a little shocked at how he managed to get under her skin so easily. He unscrewed the bottle, poured her a generous two-fingers-width before he moved on to his own glass.

"To answer your previous question- yes, just me and Alexis. Her mother was still around when I bought the place, but it was a long time ago."

"What happened?"

"Divorced."

"I'm sorry."

"Oh don't be. I'm not! I mean, okay, maybe for her, a little bit-" He pointed to the ceiling to what she assumed must be the vicinity of his daughter's bedroom. "Having to go through this. But we were not cut out to be married." With a self-deprecating shrug he lifted his glass, his eyes piercing as his entire focus came to rest on her. "Cheers, Kate."

Kate raised her glass, clinked it to his, holding his gaze for a long moment. "Cheers." Then she lifted the glass to her lips, her eyes falling closed when the smooth liquid coated her tongue, slid down her throat, sending heat swirling in her stomach. This. This is exactly what she'd needed.

She sighed, took a second sip, tasting the flavor of the whisky more strongly now, light notes of vanilla and honey in its bouquet. Slowly she opened her eyes, found him staring at her, eyes darkened, something akin to fascination in his gaze and the warmth from her belly flushed through her blood, sent heat blooming on her face. She was so used to jokes and quips or inappropriate come-ons or misogynistic commentary that his pure joy and excitement was like a breath of fresh air. That was what had drawn her here tonight, wasn't it? Why she hadn't paused to reconsider before she had come knocking at his door. She knew instinctively that he'd understand, that he would share her eager excitement. It made her daring.

"Aren't you going to ask if there's someone in my life?" She licked the edge of her glass, ran the lingering flavor across her bottom lip, fully aware of his eyes on her lips.

"Would you be here if there was?"

She raised an eyebrow, tipped her glass to his once more. "Touché."

She watched him as he took his drink, watched his Adam's apple bob when he swallowed, the stretch of his neck when he tilted his head back, the damp shimmer on his lips from the remnants of whiskey when he pulled the glass away from his mouth. The silence lingered; she felt jittery, exhilarated, the excitement of the day's events mixing with the heat of the alcohol and the temptation of his presence.

"I solved my first case today."

His eyes seemed to spark at that bread crumb of information, and he leaned toward her across the counter. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." She rested her elbows on the cool kitchen surface, their faces close above his island. "We've been working this case for three days but it just didn't make any sense, there were no connections, no real leads. But this morning I found a discrepancy in a bank statement that had been overlooked. It connected the victim's sister to one of the suspects. Most detectives aren't very willing to think outside the box; they didn't think it would pan out but I worked my angle, connected the dots and by this evening we had the guy in custody, with irrefutable evidence." Even recounting it she still felt the same thrill run through her, the exhilaration fluttering in her midsection. She couldn't describe why it felt so good but finally, after years of working towards her goal, she'd made it, she was a detective in homicide. She could make a difference. She'd find justice for others, and she finally had the means and access to find justice for her mother.

"Congratulations." His voice startled her from her drifting thoughts; Kate blinked, her eyes sliding back to his, certain she wasn't imagining the way his voice had lowered, or the darkened glint to his eyes.

"Thank you."

"Is that why you came by tonight?"

"Well you seemed rather fascinated with my profession."

"Oh yeah, I'm fascinated. Very fascinated." His voice dipped even lower, and heat flared through her insides. There was no question that he was flirting with her. She'd felt it before; felt that tantalizing draw toward him, felt the sparks that seemed to zap between them, like electricity jumping between two wires. She'd told herself she was merely star-struck, yet from the first moment, it'd been fun to banter with him, to tease and flirt, thrilling in a way she hadn't felt in a long time. Maybe never. He was charming, and rugged, and he seemed to know exactly how to get to her. She knew of his reputation; she didn't live under a rock and she may or may not have kept up with some of the gossip reported on him - the parties, the bad-boy image, the women, mostly blonde. He knew exactly what he was doing - and Kate found that she liked it. A lot.

She pushed her empty glass toward him, looking up at him from under her eyelashes and he took the hint, refilled first hers, then his own. She clinked her tumbler to his, let the warmth of the drink unfurl through her blood, enjoying the ever-increasing heat.

"So how long have you been in homicide?"

"Eight days." His eyebrows skated high on his forehead, surprise and interest shining in his eyes so she nodded, the still-alive pride whirring through her, straightening her spine. "I'd just been promoted when I moved here."

"Wow, congratulations Kate." He slid his hand across the counter and over hers, his thumb just barely set against the tender skin of her wrist, drawing soft circles across her veins and her heart started racing, the air caught in her lungs.

"Thank you."

* * *

"What did you do before homicide?" He held her gaze, watched with fascination as her pupils dilated at the touch of his fingertips over her skin. She felt like warm silk, her pulse jumping a rapid beat beneath his touch, and his midsection coiled with need, a fiery burn that he hadn't felt in a long time, consuming him from the inside out. He was utterly fascinated, and not just because she was drop-dead gorgeous.

"I was an officer. In Vice." Her voice was low, the words spoken just for him, intimate and teasing. She knew exactly what it did to him. And he was willing prey. She'd intrigued him from the moment he'd met her; there was just something about her, something elusive, something _more._ The mystery in her eyes, the depths of her intellect. He eagerly grabbed for every morsel she offered of herself; every fact or thought or look she shared lured him in further.

"Whoa. You're, like, every crime novelist's fantasy come to life!"

She laughed at that, a soft tinkling sound, her face tilting down with that shy smile he started recognizing as her customary reaction every time she was paid a compliment. _"Every_ crime novelist's?"

It was flattering, the way she was so unassuming in her seductiveness, so genuinely affected by him. He'd grown used to calculated desire, hadn't even realized how jaded he'd become until this woman had literally crashed into his life and upended his every thought.

"Maybe just mine then." He scooted around the kitchen island, couldn't help it, didn't want to; his whole body orienting toward her.

"I'm your fantasy." It was more incredulous statement than question, and he wanted to set his mouth to the distinct edge of her jaw, slide his lips down the smooth, tantalizing column of her neck just to prove the veracity of his claim.

"Yeah. You're smart, gorgeous, mysterious. Endlessly intriguing. So tall."

"You barely know me." She hummed, sliding closer, her body near enough that he could feel the warmth exuding from her skin, and her mouth smirking with unspoken challenge that reflected in the spark in her eyes. He was aching to capture that mouth, taste those pink lips.

"That can be changed."

Their eyes held and his heart was stammering in his chest, his fingertips tingling with the need to touch her, to slide his palm around her waist and pull her against him. The thought crossed his mind that he wasn't sure he'd ever before felt as drawn to any other woman as he was to Kate. She was irresistible - the allure of her mystery, her hotness, her complexity. Her pupils were dark, the swirl of color consumed by an inky black, her lips falling open on a soft exhale and he stopped resisting, wrapped his arm around her waist and dragged her against him. Their hips crashed together, her body yielding to the hard planes of his, and desire flared through him, sharp and incinerating.

He trailed his fingertips up her spine, teasing the length of her vertebrae, felt her tremor and succumb to his caress, and then she wrapped her arms around his neck, her fingers gripping into the strands of his hair, tugging him close. Her name a mere whisper on his lips, an ardent prayer as her mouth met his, instant arousal flaring through him at the warmth of her lips, the fire of her touch. He opened for her and her tongue slid against his, curling, eager in her exploration as she sought him, her kiss fast and feverish. He tightened his hold around her, fingers digging into the curve of her ass as her body pressed into his, breasts flattened against his chest, all soft curves and lithe limbs and brazen energy.

She moaned into his mouth, a raw sound that rattled deep from her chest, spread fire through his body, his blood pounding through his veins. He gripped her thighs, lifted and she came, willing, pliable, her knees hooking over his hips as he sat her on his kitchen counter. He trailed his mouth along the curve of her jaw, his teeth skimming the beautiful line of her bone and she moaned, threw her head back, exposing the smooth column of her throat. He tasted the skin above her pulse point, exhilarated by the rapid throbbing of her heart.

"You know, I didn't exactly come over for this tonight..."

He felt the words against his lips more than he heard them, lifted his mouth from her skin. Fingers gripping her thighs where she was wrapped around him, he sought her eyes with his.

"Do you want to stop?"

Her eyes were wide, darkened with lust and fiery determination as she drew him closer, rolled her hips against his, a slow, sinuous sensation.

"No."

* * *

 _a/n: I apologize for the long delay; best laid plans, and all that. Thank you for reading, and for your patience! I hope you'll continue to enjoy this tale._

 _Twitter and Tumblr: nic6879_


	5. Chapter 5

**595 BROOME ST**

 _The moment they met, their lives became extraordinary. They just didn't know it yet._

* * *

 **5**

* * *

"No, Mother, it's okay, really, don't worry about it." He listened to his mother's parting words, the excitement for her evening vibrating in her voice now that he'd reassured her she wasn't expected to change her plans. "Have a good night, mother."

' _You too, kiddo.'_

He hung up and dropped his phone onto the kitchen counter, scrubbing his hand down his face.

"Grams can't make it?" Alexis crawled up on the couch, dropped her chin to the back of the seat cushion, looking at him with big eyes and her little rosebud mouth pursed in thought. She was adorable; such a sweet kid. The last thing he wanted to do tonight was have a meeting with his publisher. Why did Gina always spring these things on him on such short notice?

"No. She has dress rehearsals for her new play tonight."

"Cool."

Rick rubbed his hands together, hinted at a level of confidence he didn't feel. "Okay, time for plan B!"

More like plan F, at this point. F as in failure. Deena had to work at her summer job and wasn't available to babysit Alexis tonight, his mother was busy, and it turned out that Paige was on vacation with her parents so he couldn't drop his daughter off for a sleepover either. He was rapidly running out of options. There was this babysitter service he'd used once before that seemed alright but he really didn't like relying on it; he preferred knowing the people whom he entrusted with his child.

"Can't Kate come watch me?"

"Kate?" His thoughts screeched to a halt, his heart stumbling at the mere mention of her name. A wave of heat rolled through him as a whirl of images flashed before his inner eye - the lithe length of her legs, strong muscle beneath tender skin that flexed and quivered at the touch of his mouth; the arch of her back and the enticing flare of her hip; skin so light that it seemed to shimmer in the dim lighting of his bedroom, and wild tousled curls across the pillow as she writhed beneath him, cried out his name.

His face flushed, his blood skating south. He had to focus, take a deep breath to shake off the movie reel of memories. He concentrated on his daughter who was prattling on, checking off her arguments one by one, counting them off her fingers.

"Yeah. She lives here, and she works for the police so it's obviously very safe. And she's awesome."

"Uhm." It seemed such a reasonable argument when he didn't take into account that the last time he'd seen her, they'd both been naked, tangled and sweaty in his sheets. "I don't know, Pumpkin. She works a lot. She might not even be home."

Though truth be told, he was fairly certain she was home today. He seemed to have become attuned to the sound of the heavy door across the hall slamming closed in the early morning, then again late at night, and the low hum of the elevator traveling down and up. And the lack thereof today. One would think an expensive apartment building like theirs would be more soundproof. He found he didn't mind so much when it was the echo of Kate across the hallway.

"Can you at least ask her? Please, daddy, please." Oh, his child was devious, using those clear blue eyes to plead with him. No fair. He couldn't ever say no to that. Plus, he was running low on other options, and it was a reasonable idea.

It wasn't at all because he really, really wanted to see her again.

* * *

He still felt like a boor when he knocked on her door a few minutes later, bouncing on his heels, hands a little sweaty with nerves. How did she make him so nervous? They'd been explosive together; one of the greatest nights he'd ever had. She'd slid out of bed, later that evening, tiptoed through his bedroom to collect her clothing but he'd woken up anyway. He hadn't been able to stop the dopey grin that had cracked across his face when he'd blinked at her, sleep-drunk and sated. Her wide eyes had met his, but the skittish surprise melted into a shy smile. It hadn't been awkward. They had both known what they'd wanted, and it wasn't like he had expected her to stay. Yet for some reason, now it was awkward anyway. He'd been wanting to see her again for days, even if just for some small talk in the hallway, something, _anything_ to get a feel for what might be going through her head but he'd never once run into her. She left early in the mornings and returned late at night, frequently past midnight. She seemed to put in long hours at her precinct, and he found himself worrying about her even though it was entirely not his place.

Approaching footsteps behind the door alerted him just before the door swung open and he came face to face with Kate, and all his breath left his lungs and his words and thoughts vacated his brain. Her scent surrounded him, reminded him of his nose buried against her neck, of her flavor on his tongue, and his midsection clamped almost painfully in what could only be classified as yearning. Shit. He was in so much trouble.

"Castle, hey." She stared at him, her eyes wide and the dark circles unmistakable beneath her eyes. She was wearing an oversized sweater that seemed too warm for the season, the sleeves reaching beyond her knuckles, a sharpie clenched between her fingertips. And then all of her softened as she seemed to register his presence, a small smile shaping her lips and he felt himself relax for the first time in days. Her hair was clipped up at the back of her head, tendrils playing in soft waves against her cheeks and he wanted to reach out, swipe them behind her ear, let his fingertips linger against the sharp line of her jaw and the delicate protrusion of her bone against which he'd scraped his teeth, and her body had rippled with pleasure.

"Hi. Kate." There was no suave left in him; he was a stuttering fool, unmade by her presence. "It's been a few days."

"Yeah." She shrugged. "Lots of work." He felt her eyes on him; her gaze traveled his features and then she chuckled, a hint of color skating into her cheeks as she lowered her face, looked up at him from under her eyelashes in quiet amusement.

"You don't have to tiptoe around me just because we slept together, you know. It's okay. We're both adults."

"I know, it's just-" He stopped himself, eyeing her more closely, eyes narrowed. "Are you laughing at me?"

She grinned, her teeth skating across her bottom lip and if she did that again, he'd have to kiss her. "Maybe a little bit."

He mock-glared at her, his chest puffed up with air. "No fair, Kate Beckett." She grinned and it was delightful to see the joy fill her up, push away that always-present lingering sadness, if only temporarily.

"So. Why did you come by?"

Oh. He sort of temporarily forgot his predicament, felt himself deflating at her question. "I came to ask you a favor."

* * *

"Okay, now go slowly, only one tablespoon at first." Kate watched as Alexis poured one tablespoon of warmed milk into the melted chocolate chips in the pot. "Now stir," she directed, and the girl whirled the whisk through the chocolate and milk mixture as it transformed into a paste.

"Oh. It got all grainy." The redhead peered into the pot with an expression so disproportionately desolate that Kate had to bite her lip to suppress her laughter. "That's okay. Add one more tablespoon, whisk again, and you'll see."

Alexis did as directed and slowly the chocolate smoothed out under their eyes, transforming to a thick, shiny chocolate cream.

"Now we can add two tablespoons." Again, the girl did as asked, whisking the measured amount of milk into the chocolate mixture. Kate kept measuring and pouring the rest of the milk in small portions while Alexis whirled the whisk as if her life depended on it, and the contents of the pot slowly transformed into creamy-thick, flavorful hot chocolate.

"Now we add the vanilla-" Kate dropped in a teaspoon of liquid vanilla extract. "And whatever flavor you'd like. Maybe some cinnamon? Or coconut?"

"Cinnamon!" The girl's eyes sparkled and Kate found that she was actually enjoying herself. An evening of babysitting a ten-year-old going-on-thirty had been the last thing she'd expected to be doing on her day off, but the child's eagerness and general precociousness were like a breath of fresh air in her generally bleak days.

"And lastly, before we pour it into our mugs..." Kate pinched a bit of sea salt between her thumb and index finger, showed Alexis the amount before she sprinkled it into the hot chocolate. "A little bit of salt, and done!"

Kate poured the steaming drink into two mugs, and Alexis topped each with such a generous amount of marshmallows, Kate's teeth ached at the sight.

"Do you have whipped cream?"

"Daddy always buys whipped cream." Alexis announced, and Kate laughed at the girl's knowing voice while she was suddenly overcome with an image of how they could've made good use of that whipped cream. Shit. It didn't help to be standing in his kitchen, next to the counter onto which he'd hoisted her, his pelvis pressed between her spread thighs, hard and insistent. She shook herself free of the salacious image that was entirely inappropriate in the presence of the man's daughter.

"Okay, then we're ready." Kate took both mugs, followed Alexis to the living room couch. "Which one should we start with, 'The Lion King,' or 'Mulan'?"

"Lion King!"

Kate sank into the couch as the familiar notes of the movie started to play, the girl sitting beside her and slurping her hot drink.

"So, what do you think? Is it the best hot chocolate ever?"

Alexis nodded. Melted marshmallow was smeared to her upper lip and she stuck out her tongue, tried to lick the sticky sugar off her skin. "It's the best hot chocolate ever!"

"Thank you."

"Dad'll be so disappointed! Can I teach him? Or is it a secret recipe?"

Kate laughed. "It's not a secret, you can show it to your dad. My mom taught it to me." Memories of her mother filled her mind, her thoughts flashing back to when Johanna had guided her through preparing the hot chocolate for the first time when Kate was maybe seven years old and inconsolably crying over something she couldn't even remember now. She had taught her the measurements in each slow, thoughtful step just like she had shown Alexis earlier. And the many times thereafter when they'd made it together, after skinned knees or fights or teenage heartbreak, the unhurried process helping to calm her troubled mind. On snow days and quiet Christmas mornings. She missed her mother, heavily and inconsolably, the sadness of her absence cracking through her from the inside out, but the thick, comforting smell and the familiar step-by-step technique reminded her of the sweet moments too, brought back the warmth of her presence, and her unique scent almost as if she were sitting right next to her.

"My mom taught me how to do my nails. See?" Alexis wiggled her fingers in front of Kate's face, startling her from her contemplation. Kate focused on the small hands presented to her.

"That's very beautiful," she said dutifully, admiring the dotted flowers adorning the bright pink nail polish, the swirls of glitter added to the edges. "You did those yourself?"

"Yes. Oh, oh, can I do yours Kate, please can I?"

Those big blue eyes were staring at her, sparkling with excitement and Kate couldn't find a reason to say no even though she'd have to remove it all again tonight before she went back to work tomorrow morning.

"Yes, let's do it!" She announced, matching her enthusiasm to the kid's.

"Awesome!" Alexis hopped off the couch, scrambling upstairs. "I'll be right back."

Little feet stomped up the stairs and Kate sank back against the couch, gave herself a moment to breathe. She sipped at her hot chocolate, her body melting into the welcoming cushions, her eyes sinking closed and her mind lulled by the warm drink and cozy lighting.

She'd warred with herself when he'd asked, battling her brain as it clawed at her, trying to drag her back inside, to not give up, not yet, maybe a new clue would unravel if only she went through it again- But he'd looked at her with those warm blue eyes, and her knees had weakened, her heart stumbling against her ribcage, and she'd found herself agreeing before she'd really thought it through. Turned out that it was both fun and exhausting. She wasn't good with kids, felt a little like a fish out of the water, but Rick's daughter seemed to be happy enough so Kate chalked it up as a win.

She found herself actually enjoying the young girl's company too, her innocence and enthusiasm. Kate barely left the realm of her work environment, lived with it every day, always surrounded by crime and depravity. She sometimes felt in danger of forgetting that there was good in this world too, sweet moments like these, good parents and healthy kids, and taking joy in the simple things.

Alexis bounced back down onto the couch next to her, jerking Kate from her drifting thoughts."'Kay so here are all the colors for underneath," she dropped a ziploc bag filled with a seemingly haphazard collection of nail polish bottles next to her on the couch. "And also do you want flowers like mine, or more swirlies? I can't do patterns so well yet."

"Flowers would be great," Kate stuck her left hand out to the child. "On fire-engine red polish!" Alexis giggled, and then she kneeled next to the coffee table, vigorously shaking a bottle of red shimmery polish. Kate placed her hand on the table, and Alexis started brushing the color onto her pinky finger first, going in slow strokes, her tongue peeking out between her lips in concentration.

"Your mom taught you well," Kate commented. She was admittedly curious to find out a few details about the woman, seeing as how Alexis seemed to live full-time with her father.

"Yeah my mom's an actress so she's really good at the beauty stuff. I hope she'll teach me how to do my make-up but I don't see her so much. She lives in Hollywood."

"Oh," Kate commented unhelpfully, unsure of how to reply to that.

"It's okay though," Alexis continued, and Kate wondered if Alexis was trying to convince Kate, or herself. "When she comes to visit we do really cool stuff. Like last year, we even went to Paris!"

"Wow."

"Yeah it was kinda awesome but dad really flipped. I guess because it was a school night."

Kate found herself struggling to keep up with the vague details of this story. In any case, Alexis' mother sounded like a handful .

"Speaking of-" Kate glanced at the watch on her wrist. "Do you have a bedtime? I completely forgot to ask your father. Like, do you have school tomorrow?"

Alexis looked up at her as if she had grown two heads. "It's summer break."

Oh. That's right, it was the end of June. She was so out of the loop.

"But I usually go to bed around 10. And dad might be back by then if he can. Sometimes these things run long though."

"These things…?"

"Work dinners," Alexis drew air quotes with her fingers in a gesture entirely too adult and wise. "With Gina," she clarified, rolling her eyes.

"You don't like Gina?"

"She smiles too much," Alexis stated matter-of-factly, inspecting her work on Kate's index finger. "Like she doesn't actually mean it."

Kate nodded, getting a clearer picture of the type of woman this Gina must be.

"But we're going to the Hamptons next week so he had to go," Alexis continued, shrugging and nodding knowingly as if she was the adult in this unusual father-daughter duo.

"The Hamptons?"

"Yeah!" The girl looked up at her, eyes sparkling with excitement. "We go every year, for the whole summer!"

Kate swallowed hard, tried to match the child's joy and ignore the lump that had formed in her throat.

He'd be gone all summer.

It wasn't supposed to hurt.

* * *

 _a/n: Thank you for reading and your always-lovely comments and enthusiasm, you make me smile._

 _And warmest thanks to the lovely Meg for the fantastic polish that she gave this chapter. :)_


	6. Chapter 6

_Dear readers, friends, followers,_

 _I apologize for the long break since the last update on this story. I admit to having felt very discouraged about this story and about writing, for various reasons (not all of which are reasonable ;)), and I'd been contemplating, more than once, whether this one is even worth continuing, or if I should just take it down instead (there are plenty of its kind, does it really have anything unique or worthwhile to tell?). But your lovely reviews and kind words have helped remind me that it is worth trying to push through, so here I am, trying. It may not be perfect, or always very timely, but it's all I can do, and all I have to give. Thank you for understanding; thank you so much to all of you who are still here, for reading, for your support and patience, your kindness and encouragement. It means more than can be put in words. I hope you will continue to enjoy this little tale._

 _Very brief summary of the prior chapters:_

 _When Kate Beckett, newly minted Detective at the 12th Precinct, moves into her new apartment, she runs - quite literally - into her new neighbor, Rick Castle, and his daughter Alexis. To welcome the intriguing woman, Rick Castle brings over some pizza, and later, a gift to make up for the unfortunate accident that had happened when she moved in, which had broken one of Kate's possessions - a vase that had belonged to her mother. A few days later, feeling elated over a successful day at work and needing to share her excitement with someone who would be able to relate, Kate stops by Rick's for a drink, the man who had been so intrigued by her job choice and experiences. Their mutual attraction leads to an explosive night spent together, yet with Kate's busy schedule, they don't see each other again until several days later when Rick finds himself needing a trustworthy person to watch Alexis. He turns to Kate for help, who agrees to help him out by babysitting his child for an evening._

* * *

 **595 BROOME ST**

 _The moment they met, their lives became extraordinary. They just didn't know it yet._

* * *

 **6**

* * *

Castle slid his key in the keyhole and twisted, pushing the door open as quietly as possible in case Alexis was already asleep, despite knowing that once his daughter was sleeping, a herd of elephants could stomp past her bed and she wouldn't so much as blink.

The loft lay mostly dark. The small lamp on the side table spilled warm light, bathing the living room in hues of gold, broken up only by the intermittent pale blue flashes emanating from the TV screen. He closed the door behind him with a quiet snick, and Kate's head came up over the back of the couch as she turned to face him.

"So, how was your date?" The consonants popped across her tongue as she emphasized the word 'date', her eyebrows climbing her forehead. His eyes widened; he felt his cheeks flaming with red.

"It wasn't a date." He was quick to assure her, dropping the keys onto the side table with a loud clang. He could hear the exasperation in his own voice, felt the roil of frustration in his stomach.

"Just a work dinner with my publisher." The last thing he wanted was for Kate to think he'd lured her to babysit his child while he merrily went on a date with some other woman. Not that it was a date. It was only work talk, mostly, only it happened to be in a restaurant. And she'd ordered wine. And dessert. And he did feel like she kept changing the subject, her voice dropping low and lower.

Damn it! "It was a date." He scrubbed his hand over his face, rubbing his thumbs across his eyebrows to dispel the lurking headache that had started pressing against his skull.

"But not because I wanted it to be. She's just-" He staggered forward toward the couch, closing the distance between them. "I didn't realize, Kate, I promise it wasn't under false pretenses when I asked for your help with Alexis tonight."

"Relax, Castle. It's okay. It's not like we're exclusive. You can date other people."

"God, no! I don't want to date _Gina_." He shuddered. A couple of weeks, maybe a month ago that option might have held some appeal; Gina was smart and ambitious, had his best interests at heart professionally, and had always made for a good balance by his side for any public appearances. They got along well and he'd thought about it, more than once, wondered whether to pursue a relationship. But now he'd met Kate and-

He startled, surprised by the thought. His eyes flew to hers, found her staring back with wide eyes, all traces of playful amusement gone. The silence expanded between them, and he felt breathless, unmade by her proximity. Her eyes were skating across his face, down to his lips then back up, as if she was taking in every line and feature, reading everything he wasn't saying. Her mouth was open and he wanted to suck her bottom lip between his, taste the sweetness of her skin, feel her fingers clamp around the lapels of his shirt and tug.

He cleared his throat and the moment shattered to pieces, dispersing between them as she blinked, drew away. "How did it go tonight?"

"Good, it was good," Kate nodded, turning her head, and Rick followed her gaze to where his daughter lay stretched along the corner of the couch, her skinny limbs flung in all directions, and her soft red hair fanning out against the black of his couch cushions.

"She fell asleep about forty-five minutes ago, right in the middle of the loudest fight scene in 'Mulan."

He chuckled, circling around the sofa and bending down to scoop Alexis into his arms. "Thank you for doing this, Kate."

His daughter was rapidly getting too tall and grown-up to be carried to bed but for now she was still a lithe thing who slept like a hibernating bear and Rick took his moments when he could have them. He lifted Alexis against his chest. She huffed in her sleep, her long limbs like wet spaghetti dangling over the cradle of his arms.

"She really likes you," he said, lifting his gaze to Kate.

"I like her too." He was certain he didn't imagine the tint of color that was infusing Kate's cheeks despite the dim lighting in his loft. She looked down, her hair curtaining half her face, and the soft waves of her shoulder-long bob curled against her graceful neck. He wanted to kiss that tender patch of skin at the back of her neck, feel her arch and gasp at the teasing play of his tongue.

He cleared his throat, felt the heat blooming in his midsection and his blood pounding through his veins, and he had to mentally shake himself to clear the alluring images from his mind. "I need to get her up to bed."

"Yeah, I really should get going as well." She tucked a strand of hair back behind her ears, wiped her palms over her thighs as she rose off the couch.

"Wait."

She stopped in her tracks, and her eyes startled up to his, wide and dark and apprehensive. He wasn't even sure what he'd wanted to say, his mouth suddenly dry like cotton balls. It'd been pure instinct, her name on his tongue when it looked like she was leaving, an almost-panic clawing at him.

"Stay. Please?"

* * *

This was _so_ not a good idea. She should've left; she should've said good night, and snuck away while he put Alexis to bed. It'd been hard enough to act normal, to tell her racing heart to calm down, to keep her breathing even. When he'd suddenly shown up at her door earlier this evening, broad shoulders framed by her door way, she'd had to school her features when her first instincts had been to drag him inside by the lapels of his shirt, to set her mouth to his and tackle him right there on her hardwood floor.

For days she'd been able to feel him, could still sense the gossamer ghost of his touch on her skin. The sure path of his fingertips as he had explored the lines and dips of her shape; the warmth of his mouth everywhere, _everywhere_.

Her midsection clenched every time she thought of him, heat flushing into her cheeks and lips and between her legs. But no, _no_. The sex had been good, so very _good_ but it'd been just a one-time thing - just two people who'd been attracted to each other and had found what they needed when they needed it. Nothing more, no strings attached. She wasn't unfamiliar with his reputation, the Richard Castle of the tabloids and page six, a different blonde hanging off his arm at every opportunity. Everything she'd seen of him so far was at odds with that image, yet she didn't dwell on that either. Instead she reminded herself that she'd stepped into this with her eyes open, that she had no expectations beyond being neighbors who'd had one explosive night together. She had no time or inclination for anything beyond that, had long since given up the thought of a relationship. She had a goal, and she finally had the means and opportunity to pursue it. She needed to focus, needed to not allow her attention to get diverted.

And yet one look at him and all her intentions had melted into a puddle like a stick of butter sitting out in the sun; she came undone by the pleading, vivid blue eyes of Richard Castle when all he'd asked for was a small favor.

Kate tucked her knees up on the sofa, continued flipping through the TV channels until she landed on an episode of 'Trading Spaces.' The volume was low but she didn't really need to hear the details of the conversation as the couple on screen bickered about redecorating their neighbor's living room; couldn't have focused anyway, the TV a mere backdrop to her jumping thoughts.

"You know, if you turned this show into a drinking game, you'd be blitzed before the end of the first episode."

She startled into a small laugh, turned her head toward Castle descending the stairway. Her heart slammed against her ribcage with every step that brought him nearer, her stomach lurching with nerves despite her best efforts to control it. They were friends, just friends. Friendly neighbors. Her body was betraying her.

He pointed at the TV where one of the designers seemed to evaluate the family's living room with an assessing gaze. "Take a drink every time she covers a wall with fabric." They didn't need to hear her talk for Kate to guess that Rick's assessment was pretty spot on.

"Oh yeah, or drink every time the new wall color is some shade of brown!"

He stopped near the couch, dramatically let his gaze travel over to the wide-open area of his living room painted in a dark tan. "I don't know what you're talking about."

She blushed, immediately felt silly for it, scraped her teeth over the corner of her lip as she unsuccessfully tried to hide her grin. "Sorry."

Castle laughed, rounding the sofa to drop down into the seat right next to her, making the cushion bounce and her body lurch against his. Her right arm and thigh were pressed against his body, their clothing no barrier for the heat of his skin that spread from him to her. Her stomach fluttered so hard that she felt breathless.

"Take a drink every time they remove the ceiling fan."

She smirked. "Take a drink every time they do a project with mirrors."

"Every time they paint someone's furniture."

"Oh, oh, every time the theme is some type of barnyard or hay!" She groaned.

He turned to look at her, waggled his eyebrows with a grin. "Should I get the shot glasses?"

"God, no, please!" She laughed but shook her head, looking at him, and her heart jumped up into her throat. If she added potent alcohol to her already frayed nervous system, she wasn't sure she would be able to control herself for much longer. Whiskey was what got her in trouble last time. Delicious, salacious trouble. Warmth bloomed through her, flushed her face. Kate swallowed hard, noticed his eyes skating down to her lips, her throat, then back up to her eyes.

"A glass of wine, then?"

"Yeah," she croaked. "Sure. Wine would be nice." Her eyes tracked him as he got up, followed the broad lines of his shoulders, the taut curve of his ass. She lingered there for too long, remembering how his skin had felt beneath her fingertips. She was in so much trouble.

Kate forced her eyes forward, stared unseeing at the TV, nipping at her thumbnail.

"Here you go." A glass appeared in her eyesight and she looked up, found Castle presenting the red wine to her. The liquid shimmered in the dim lighting of his home.

"Thank you." She took the glass from him. Her fingertips brushed his, and his eyes darkened visibly. He held her gaze as he sat down, touched his glass to hers.

"Cheers." Her mouth went dry at the piercing look of his eyes, the rawness of his voice, and she lifted the glass to her lips, grateful for the liquid as it wetted her throat. The wine was rich against her tongue, dark and heavy and flavorful, and she couldn't stop thinking that it tasted like him.

* * *

There was something about this woman he couldn't seem to put into words, something compelling, utterly spellbinding.

He hadn't thought it through when he'd asked her to stay, hadn't had any intentions, good, bad, or otherwise, but now that she was here, sitting next to him on his couch, one of those seemingly endless legs pulled up on the cushion as she sipped her wine, he knew he wanted her. Her lips kissed the fine rim of the glass, and then the tip of her tongue slid across her bottom lip. His pants grew tighter as heat unfurled through his midsection, and his throat went dry. She was sexy and alluring, interesting and smart, and he wondered about her. There was something he couldn't place, an underlying... sadness, or conflict; he couldn't tell but he saw it every time he caught her unawares. Even now, in this very moment, there was something she was battling... Was she questioning if she should leave, or if she'd want to stay?

He wanted her to stay.

Despite the sense of reluctance he seemed to pick up, her body language - every look and move and seemingly innocent touch said she wanted to be kissed. She was leaning toward him just so; every sip she took a deliberate, measured movement, her eyelids opening slowly every time she looked up at him. If he didn't know better he'd think it was calculated - but nothing about her was calculated. She was all instinctive allure and inherent sex-appeal, and it appealed to him in ways he seemed to have neglected, hadn't allowed himself to analyze in a long time. As if he'd forgotten what it felt like to feel wanted, not for money or fame or ulterior motives, but just for who he was.

He set his glass down on the coffee table, scooted a little closer to her, and lifted her glass from her fingertips. Kate tracked his movements with her eyes as he pointedly placed her glass beside his, then turned for her once more. She swallowed; he saw the small jump in her throat where he ached to place his mouth, noticed her teeth grazing against the corner of her lip. He curved an arm around her lower back, drawing her against him.

"What are your intentions, Mr. Castle?" She hummed, her voice so low, so sexy that his blood was pounding through his veins.

"Only the worst ones, Ms. Beckett." His fingertips trailed up the line of her spine, curling at her neck and into her hair, gripping a handful of strands in his fist. "Any objections?"

She leaned in, her lips so near that he felt the caress of her breath when she spoke. "None whatsoever."

He drew her closer, held her against him for a drawn-out moment. Rick watched her eyes sink closed and her lips fall open, felt the tightness of her muscles melt away in his embrace. Her breathing grew quick and her breasts brushed against his chest with every inhale, and he slid his lips over hers and kissed her.

She moaned when she opened for him, a raw, low, delectable sound that speared heat right through him. He curled his tongue into her mouth, finding hers, sliding deeper, and her knees slid over his as she sank down into his lap.

* * *

She let herself go. Completely. Again. It was so easy with him. So very, very _good_. Her conscience was nagging at her, loud warning bells blaring in her mind: don't get attached, you can't; you're not ready, you'll ruin it; can't ever be ready until this thing is done; you're not good enough, strong enough for this, you shouldn't you shouldn't you shouldn't- Yet she ignored it all, pushed it from her conscience, let herself just _feel_. Feel him. She didn't want to listen, didn't want to think and analyze and worry, not now. She allowed herself to be carried into his bedroom, her legs clamped tight around his waist and her tongue in his mouth; allowed herself to be laid down on his bed, and undressed piece by piece until she was laid bare before him and his mouth was getting reacquainted with her skin.

She moaned, her fingers gripped tightly into the sheets and her eyes closed, stars sparking bright behind her eyelids when his lips and tongue and fingertips traveled the length of her body. Widened her legs, heels dug into the mattress and her hips rising, seeking his touch; opened all of herself up for his deliberate, erotic perusal. She needed this, desperately; the nearness to another human being; no, not just anyone but _him_ \- his warmth, his strength and tenacity, his tender, eager, determined touch. It seemed to give her strength, as if she was recharging for the fight ahead, to continue her personal, lonely battle, day after day.

And then his mouth settled between the vee of her legs and she cried out, her mind wiped clean of everything but the heat of his mouth and the waves of sensation crashing over her, sweeping her away into the open, endless sea of bright white oblivion.

* * *

"So... The Hamptons, huh?"

His eyes opened to his bedroom smudged with darkness, yet he could still easily make out her silhouette, moonlight caressing the stunning curves of her body, the sharp line of her collarbones, the arc of her cheekbone. Lying on her side beside him, Kate held her head cradled on the perch of her elbow, and the fingers of her other hand traversed the space of the mattress between them, traveled the line from his navel up to his sternum, pausing over his heart where he could feel the warm points of her touch. Her eyes were resting on him, shimmering wide and black in the dark of night.

"Hmm?" He mumbled, still a little sleep-drunk, drowsy with delicious, delirious exhaustion.

"When are you leaving?"

"Oh. Alexis told you?"

She nodded.

"Tomorrow, probably in the early afternoon. We'll pack in the morning, get going sometime after lunch usually..."

"Alexis is excited."

"Yeah, she loves it out there. So do I. There's nothing quite like the beach. The crash of the waves, the sand in your toes, the feel of the humid wind tousling your hair. The house was the biggest investment I had ever made, once I could afford it. Never regretted it." She continued to watched him with curious eyes, so quiet and motionless, and he blurted out his next sentence without any prior thought whatsoever.

"You should come with us!"

He didn't know where that had come from, yet the moment it popped out of his mouth he realized that he wanted it more than anything. He also realized immediately that this might make her run faster than he could blurt out any further explanations or a tactical retreat. He loved his beach home; he wanted everyone to get a slice of it if he could make it happen. Add to that the vision of Kate Beckett in a swim suit, lying out in the sun, skin kissed by the golden rays, those endless legs draped along a chaise-longue…

"You do remember I have a job."

"No, of course," he backpedaled, contrite. "I'm sorry. It was stupid."

"No, no," she seemed to hasten to find her words. "It was... It's kinda sweet, actually."

"4th of July!" He blurted out, then lowered his excitement to saner levels. "You could come for the holiday weekend?"

"You're working really hard just to see me in a swim suit, Castle." She arched an eyebrow at him. "Nothing you haven't seen before…"

"No, that's not… Okay, that's not only-" She just held her gaze, and he suddenly had a distinct vision of how she'd take down a suspect at her job. They wouldn't stand a chance.

"Kate." He reached out, trailed his fingertips down her cheek. "You work hard, it'd be good for you to get away, and to relax a bit?"

"Castle, I..." She was biting her lip, eyes lowered, seemed to mentally retreat even though she was not moving from his bed... Not yet anyway. "I'm new to the department and I just got promoted to Detective. I don't think I'll get any time off. Especially not on a holiday."

He wasn't sure that was the sole truth. There was more she wasn't saying, a reluctance that implied she wouldn't try either, maybe didn't even want to. She needed a break, he thought; he knew she worked long hours, knew how late she came home. He saw the darkness smudged under her eyes and the protrusion of her collar bones, the sharp ridge of her ribcage. He'd swear she'd been losing weight. Not that it was any of his business, really, and she was drop dead gorgeous either way, but he was concerned, he couldn't help it. He worried about her, thought of her a lot. He didn't want to analyze why, to look too closely why he felt so strongly. He thought if he did, he was afraid it'd scare him too.

"I should go." She rose to sit, her back to him and the sheet pooled low around her hips, revealing the long, smooth line of her spine, the sculpted shape of her back; the toned muscles and the softness of her skin where her ribcage ended and the dip of her waist began, the alluring flare of her hips. Seeing her leave was the last thing he wanted. He trailed a fingertip down the length of her spine, mapping each vertebra, circling his thumbs at the low of her back. She shivered, a trail of goosebumps following in the wake of his touch.

"I think you should stay," he hummed, coming for her; rising to sit, he brushed his lips along the back of her neck.

"Just a little while longer," he murmured into her skin, encouraged that despite the words, she hadn't made any further moves to leave his bed. Instead she arched into his touch, spine bowed and her head falling to the side, giving him easier access to the smooth column of her neck. She was just so achingly beautiful. He bracketed her waist with his palms, his fingers grazing the ladder of her ribcage, sneaking up to tease the underside of her breasts, watching the sensuous way she moved under his hands, the erotic picture she made in his bed.

She turned in his embrace, at once energetic and fierce as she pushed him back into the mattress and straddled his hips. His heart started pounding, his body rising for her all over again, seeking, _craving_.

Eyebrow arched, she ran her hands over his chest, undulating her hips, a challenging gleam in her eyes.

"Make it count."

* * *

 _Thank you for reading._

* * *

 _Unimportant side note: The home decorating show 'Trading Spaces' was one of the first (actually I think the first) home decorating reality show; initially I had them banter about 'House Hunters' only to realize that the show didn't yet exist when this story is set. And yes, drinking games exist for both shows. ;)_


	7. Chapter 7

**595 BROOME ST**

 _The moment they met, their lives became extraordinary. They just didn't know it yet._

* * *

 **7**

* * *

The hallway turned quiet, after they were gone.

Kate left early for work, and returned home late, take-out food of some type or other in her hands and fatigue weighing down her limbs, and she'd pretend she didn't notice the distinct absence of sounds from behind the wide red door; no laughter and giggles, no voices or the thud of footsteps. She barely knew them, Kate would remind herself, hadn't known them for long enough that it should matter.

At home, armed with silverware she'd grabbed from the drawer in her kitchen, she'd take her food into her bedroom, where she'd open the shutters on her window and stare up at her make-shift murder board. She spent her evenings leafing through old files she'd snuck out of the precinct archives; first, she'd skim-read the whole file, make quick notes on post-its she'd stick to the edges of the paper. Then she'd go through the file again, focus on every line with thorough attention, add a fact here or there to index cards she'd pin to the window – if there were any new facts at all; write question marks and arrows, red and bold and leaving nowhere. And then she'd read it a third time, sifting for the proverbial needle in the haystack and not finding it even though the haystack was miserably small.

Just as she'd always suspected, the investigation had been sloppy; the details were thin, some lines of questioning seemed to not ever have been investigated; avenues of investigation remaining unexplored. Instead of answers, all she seemed to end up with were more questions. Anger and devastation welled through her in equal measure, frustration her daily companion as she tried to dig up even the smallest detail from the yellowed pages, find that one thing that might have been overlooked, that could provide the key to unravel the hidden secrets of this case.

She was tired; she barely ever managed to catch more than five hours of sleep between the demands of her job and her work on her mother's case in the evenings, and the amount of concealer she needed in the mornings to hide the blue tint beneath her eyes increased. But it was easy to ignore when she felt so challenged by it all. Homicide was different from Vice, more than she had expected, but she loved it, loved the mental challenge of following clues, of solving puzzles, loved learning the ropes of Homicide. And she was damn good at it, too. She finally felt like she was where she was meant to be, and it was exhilarating.

She told herself that it was just a coincidence when the postcard arrived on the same day that she was told she had to take time off over the 4th of July weekend. She'd been shocked at first, then she had tried to argue against it – there were police officers with families who deserved time off for the holiday more than her. If her Captain insisted she was due some time off, she had reasoned, then she'd promise to take a few days soon - but it was to no avail. Something about 1PP having pulled the 12th's numbers, revealing that Kate had not been allotted time off on any of the major holidays over the last at least two years, that there were union-guaranteed requirements to follow that could not be circumvented.

When she got home that night, and pulled the mail from her mail box, and shuffled through the stack - ad, bill, bill, credit card offer, more ads – a postcard slid from within the stack, sailed to the ground as if in slow motion while Kate watched its descent. She bent to pick it up, wondering who would be sending her vacation postcards? It showed a beach doused in the yellow-orange-pink hues of sunset, a vibrant, romanticized image much liked by the early adolescent subset. It clicked in her mind before she flipped over the card, before her eyes fell on the looping, large cursive script of a child.

"Dear Kate, The Beach is awesome. It is very hot. I go swimming every day, and dad and I have a contest who can build the biggest sandcastle. Yesterday I won! Dad says you have to work but I hope you can come visit. We also have a pool. Your friend Alexis Harper Castle."

Once in her apartment, Kate dropped the stack of mail on the entrance table, but she took the postcard with her into the kitchen. It sat on the counter while she plated her take-out chicken parmesan and spaghetti, side salad, a bread stick slathered in butter. Her mouth watered, and her stomach growled angry sounds, reminding her that her lunch had been too many hours ago. She put the leftovers in the fridge, poured a generous glass of wine, and carried her food into the living room, the postcard clasped against the plate while balancing the glass between two fingers of her other hand.

She was starving, yet her heart kept thumping, her stomach fluttering with nerves. She took out her phone and dialed the number before she could think better of it. Still she hesitated before pressing the 'call' button, chewed on her lip, her insides churning. She chided herself for being such a chicken, and placed the call.

He answered after three rings – three shrill sounds that pierced her ears and made her feel frayed. Why was she so nervous, there was no reason; they weren't dating, she wasn't attached-

 _"Hello?"_

"You fight with unfair means, you know that, don't you?" She chided, couldn't keep the smile out of her voice.

 _"I have no idea of which you speak,"_ Castle replied in a way that told her he knew exactly of which she spoke.

"Liar."

 _"Did you miss me? Just call for a quick chat? Phone sex?"_

She scoffed. "In your dreams."

" _Oh, in my dreams-"_

"Castle!" He shut up. "Just let me speak to Alexis, will ya?"

 _"Aww come on, I barely got to talk to you! Don't I deserve to know?"_ He needled, and she did not find his whining adorable, not at all.

"I can tell you exactly what you deserve," she murmured, deliberately suggestive. She hadn't meant to tease him but the words seemed to just slip from her mouth; it was such fun to flirt with him, just so easy.

" _Can't wait."_ His voice was gruff; it sent shivers down her spine, and heat unspooling in her midsection.

 _'Alexis!'_ She heard him call the girl's name away from the phone speaker, and soon the sound of stomping footsteps came nearer. Kate wondered how one willowy child could sound like a small herd of elephants. _'Phone call for you.'_

Static rustling sounded through the speaker as the phone was passed on from father to daughter, and then the girl's voice came through the speaker.

 _"Hello?"_ She sounded out of breath, and then she squealed _"Kate!"_ once Kate had said Hello. The exuberant reaction made her smile.

"Thank you for the postcard," Kate said. "Sounds like you're having a great time."

 _"Oh yeah, today it was a little windy and there were waves so we went boogie boarding!"_

"Sounds wonderful." Kate bit her lip, felt her heart thundering in her chest, took a deep, fortifying breath.

"What would you think if I came to visit for the 4th of July?" She didn't know where it had come from, didn't know why it felt okay all of a sudden, why it didn't seem so scary, but what did she have to lose? She liked the kid, and she had fun with Richard Castle, that was undeniable. What would be the harm? Maybe she did deserve a couple of days in the sun.

A squeal pierced through the receiver from the other end. _"Really? You'll come?"_

"I will. Just for a couple of days though; that's all the time off I have." She felt the smile spread across her own face, couldn't deny that she felt excited at the prospect. It sounded like fun, and there'd been a dire shortage of that in her life.

 _"So, I hear you're visiting?"_ Then it was Castle on the line once again, and she felt the heat bloom on her face.

"If that's okay?" She stuttered, her nerves alight. She didn't even think to ask him again, didn't know if he had meant the offer, last time she'd seen him, naked in his bed. And here she was, imposing on-

 _"More than okay,"_ he said, and his voice had deepened, went straight to her midsection and sent her body haywire.

 _"I'll text you the address,"_ he continued, and she nodded, then remembered she was on the phone.

"Yes. Okay. Thanks." Great; she already sounded like an imbecile.

 _"Okay."_ His voice was warm and low and she could envision his smile in front of her face. Oh god. It wasn't supposed to mean anything.

 _"We'll... see you next week?"_

"Yeah. Next week. Good night, Castle."

 _"Good night Kate."_

* * *

When he'd said house in the Hamptons, this is not what Kate had expected. Truth was, she didn't know what she had expected, hadn't thought it through. Her mouth dropped open as she exited her car, slammed the door closed while staring up at the building that rose before her, gleaming in the sunshine. A knot tightened in her stomach like a fist.

This… This wasn't a _house_. This was an estate! A freaking mansion! Oh god, she wanted to- What had she been thinking? Was it too late to turn around? Get back in the car and drive off? She could call him later, tell him that a case had come up, that she had to work after all? Her thoughts were racing, her brain urging her to move, but her legs remained stubbornly frozen in place. The sun burned hot on her back; sweat started pooling under her shirt, ran down her spine.

"Kate!" Too late, there was Castle, framed by the open doorway. Her heart thundered in her chest.

He hurried toward her and she took a deep breath, a smile forming on her lips despite the reservations that whirled through her mind. He looked - good. Tanned and rested, his muscles moving beneath the thin t-shirt he was wearing, his smile wide and warm. Inviting.

"Hey." He stopped before her, and his voice was low - intimate, sending tingles down her spine. He leaned in and placed a kiss to her cheek, and her eyes fluttered closed. He smelled like sun screen and ocean air and the familiar scent of him, and her knees felt weakened.

"Hey, Castle," she murmured, wanting to kiss him. God, she wanted to kiss him, to feel the warmth of his lips, taste him again. In broad daylight, without the excuse of the dark of night, or alcohol, or the need for distraction, and she scolded herself for it. Don't be ridiculous, Kate. They weren't dating; he invited her because he was trying to be nice. A friend. Right.

"You bring a bag?"

She nodded. "In the trunk."

Rick brushed past her, lifted her weekender bag out of the trunk. "Well, welcome." He gestured toward the house, its open door. "Come on in."

Kate followed him up the steps toward the main entrance, and then a skinny whirlwind with flying red hair barreled toward her, wrapped her lithe arms around Kate's waist in a tight hug.

"Kate! You're here!" The girl looked up at her with those light blue eyes that sparkled like gem stones in the bright sunlight. "Want to go swimming with me?"

"Easy, Pumpkin," Rick scolded with a laugh. "Let Kate get settled in first." He motioned her inside and Kate followed Alexis, crossing the threshold of Castle's summer house in the Hamptons.

She looked around, eyeing the vast space with its light wood flooring and its pale blue walls, the wainscoting and the panoramic windows, its brightness and expensive, understated decor. Her heart leapt; she couldn't get it to calm down.

"Come on, let me show you your room first." She nodded, still speechless, and followed him up the steps. She stared at his ass, at the taut cheeks moving and shifting beneath the tight encasing of his jeans as he climbed the stairs, and it didn't help her racing heart.

"Here you are." Rick opened a door off the long hallway, and Kate stepped inside ahead of him. Her feet sank into the thick carpet. A large window brightened the cozy bedroom, a window seat with an abundance of pillows beneath the panoramic view.

"You have your own bathroom." Rick gestured toward the door to the en-suite, "and plenty of space in the closet if you need it. Oh, there's a bathrobe in there too."

She turned away from the window, looking at him.

"Alexis' room is just across the hallway…"

"And yours?" She blurted out before she could stop herself, felt the blush skating into her cheeks.

His face transformed into a grin, his eyebrows skating high on his forehead. "That door at the other end of the hallway. Wanna see it?"

She tugged her bottom lip between her teeth, eyeing him. "Maybe later," she hummed, and his irises darkened to a deeper blue.

Kate stepped closer and skated her palms up his chest, enjoying the play of his muscles beneath her hands, the thunderstruck expression on his face at her touch. And then she pushed him backwards, smirking at him. "Now get out of here so I can change."

Once Castle had closed the door behind him, Kate sat her bag up on the bed and opened it, digging through its contents to find her bathing suits. She'd packed two, a demure blue one-piece, and a small white two-piece with a cherry print, held together only by strings around the neck and the back, and ties over the hips. She pursed her lips. One was definitely more appropriate to play with Rick's daughter… But she had been hoping to get a bit of a tan this weekend. And she craved to see Castle's reaction when she wore the bikini. It's not like it was an inappropriate piece of clothing; it properly covered everything that should be covered. She was seriously overthinking this.

The sound of laughter drew her attention from her bathing suit dilemma to the window and she abandoned her bag to look outside. Her room overlooked the patio below, and she could see Alexis circling her tiny hips, a hula-hoop swinging around her midsection while she giggled at her father.

"No dad, like this!" She lifted the hoop up to her waist once more, set it to swinging, and Kate's eyes skated over to Rick whose hula-hoop made it one and a half turns before it clanked back onto the stones. Kate snickered, her fingers flying to her lips to stifle her laugh. She'd seen him much more talented with his hips before, she thought to herself, and butterflies erupted in her midsection at the thought, heat unfurling, flushing her skin; her heart beating rapidly, her need for him burning and urgent.

She was falling for him, wasn't she?

Her knees felt weak. She dropped down on the window sill, staring outside into the distance where the ocean was brushing up against the shore. There wasn't a cloud in the sky, barely a breeze that disturbed the glimmering heat. Kate barely noticed the beautiful view; her thoughts racing.

Shit. She was falling for him. Hard.

She wasn't supposed to have feelings for him. Kate liked him; of course she did, he was kind and charming, courteous and funny, and so damn good in bed.

It was fun. _He_ was fun. But anything else-? She needed to stay focused, she couldn't handle too much of a distraction, didn't have time for it. She wasn't ready, wasn't good at this either. She'd ruin it, ruin everything. Her heart kept pounding, a knot in her throat choking her of breath.

What the hell was she going to do?

* * *

Rick knocked on the door frame but she didn't react. Her face was turned toward the view of the ocean beyond, her body motionless where she sat perched on the windowsill. Silhouetted by the midday brightness, she looked like a sculpted piece of art – breathtaking and untouchable.

He stepped into the guest room, his footsteps soundless on the thick carpet as he crossed the room toward her.

"Kate. Hey?"

She turned her head, eyes widened in surprise as if she hadn't expected him here at all.

"You okay?"

She nodded. Her eyes tracked his movements as he sat down next to her on the window seat. She seemed subdued, unsure. She had sounded fairly excited on the phone when she had agreed to his invitation, comfortable enough with the idea, yet ever since she had arrived, Kate seemed reserved, to hold back, keeping herself at a careful distance.

He realized he still knew so little of her; every time they'd been together it felt as if he understood her, as if he could read everything about her; he felt a connection to her in ways he wasn't sure he'd experienced before. Yet he had to accept that in fact he didn't know her at all. He had no clue what she was thinking, what she needed. What she wanted.

Was he in over his head with her?

Maybe it'd been a mistake, inviting her for an entire weekend. He'd just wanted her to get a break, to relax, to have some fun. He knew that he had a tendency to let his exuberance get away with him, aware of how overwhelming this could feel to others. Yet there seemed to be such joy in her, hidden beneath the layers of protection Kate had erected around herself, and he wanted to draw it from her, to break through those barriers and reveal layer after layer of this utterly fascinating person. He'd hoped they'd be able to have fun together, that she'd enjoy his company, too; possibly have amazing, mind-blowing sex again if she was interested, but maybe it was all too much? Too much expectation, too much pressure for both of them?

His gaze flicked up to hers, and he found her eyes resting on him, a penetrating gaze, spearing right through him; her irises a vivid green in the brilliant sunlight, her mouth open, her cheeks flushed.

And then she leapt forward, grabbed his face with her palms and kissed him. Her lips were urgent against his, desperate; her tongue fierce, coaxing him to open for her. He groaned at the onslaught of sensation, the aggressive need in her kiss. Her tongue curled inside his mouth, her thighs sliding over his, and he dug his fingers into her shirt, dragging her closer. She bit his lip, soothed the sting with her tongue, her fingers wrapped around the back of his neck, fingernails digging into his skin and a moan skating from her mouth that was wicked, untamed need.

"Kate," he moaned into her mouth and she rolled her hips over his, her body like a live wire, electrifying, setting him on fire. His fingers trembled against the curve of her lower back and she arched her spine, her breasts brushing against his chest. Her head fell back, exposing the gorgeous line of her neck. She had her eyes closed, thick black eyelashes throwing shadows against the delicate skin under her eyes, her lips opened on a lengthy exhale. It gentled him, the beauty of her, the sensuality of her need.

Rick brushed soft kisses against her throat, traced a line up to her jaw, to the soft spot underneath her ear. He grazed his teeth there, the tip of his tongue. She hummed something like relief at his touch, her arms wrapping around his head, fingers brushing through his hair. She seemed to melt against him, the tension in her body softened, and he held her to him with his heart pounding. His body ached, and he hugged her close, his face pressed to the curve of her neck. Her warmth, her softness, the sweet scent of her overwhelming his senses, and a wave of conflicting emotions washed over him, ardent desire and the swell of protectiveness, the urge to keep her, here, with him.

Her stomach grumbled, and he felt her chuckle, the vibration of it traveling from her slim frame into his body. "Sorry."

He lifted his head, found her face adorably flushed. "Want some lunch?"

Kate nodded and climbed off his thighs, and the loss of her was distinct, the blood pounding through his midsection. Rick tried to stand up, felt his muscles aching, had to adjust his jeans against the strain to his pelvis. He didn't miss the sly, pleased look on Kate's face as she eyed him.

"See you downstairs in a few?" He felt raw; still breathless from her kiss, the erotic siren call of her body.

"Yeah." She nodded, smiling at him, and it was a tender, tentative thing. Whatever had troubled her earlier seemed to have been pushed from her mind for now. If this is what he could do for her, he noted with satisfaction, if this is what she needed, he'd gladly give it.

He kissed her cheek, lingered for a long moment with his lips pressed to the sensuous curve of her cheekbone. He felt her eyes sink closed, savored the smooth velvet of her skin, and then he let her be and went downstairs.

* * *

 _Thank you so much to all of you who shared their thoughts and words of encouragement with me after the last chapter. You've helped revive my own enjoyment with writing this story, and I am truly grateful. Thank you for your patience with me, and I hope that as the story unfolds, it will continue to brighten your day._


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